


Cheese & Butter

by SarahLannister



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Community: prompt-in-a-box, Drabble, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Hot Chocolate, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-08 00:30:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14682693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SarahLannister/pseuds/SarahLannister
Summary: Prompted from the swooping-is-bad community on LiveJournal, here's a little blurb featuring Alistair and the first fictionalized appearance of my F!Cousland.The Challenge:Two (or more) characters are trapped overnight in a single-room cabin in the middle of a blizzard. It is so cold that falling asleep uncovered will undoubtedly cause hypothermia. There is one single blanket.One blanket. Endless Possibilities.





	Cheese & Butter

**Author's Note:**

> This is SO OLD JESUS GROSS  
> An old one-shot based on a prompt from the swooping_is_bad Dragon Age fan community on LiveJournal that I wrote back in 2010. I still think it was pretty funny so I thought, feck it, might as well post it here for posterity/ shits and giggles.  
> Lightly edited without beta by myself to fix formatting and spelling errors so apologies in advance.  
> Something light and vaguely silly!
> 
> -Chubbs

    May 11th, 2010

Prompted from the[swooping-is-bad](http://community.livejournal.com/swooping_is_bad/) community on LiveJournal, here's a little blurb featuring Alistair and the first fictionalized appearance of my F!Cousland.  
  
 **The Challenge:** _  
Two (or more) characters are trapped overnight in a single-room cabin in the middle of a blizzard. It is so cold that falling asleep uncovered will undoubtedly cause hypothermia. There is one single blanket._  
  
 __  
One blanket. Endless Possibilities.  
  
  
 **Cheese & Butter**  
  
Rated: T, I suppose. Nothing heavier than tickle fights and a bit of snogging.  
Pairing: Alistair/ F!Cousland  
  
\--------------------  
  
"By the frilly knickers of Androste, why is it so cold?!" the young woman shrieked, teeth chattering as the chill cut through her like a knife.  
  
"Uh, maybe it's because we're halfway up the FROSTBACK moutains? The clue is in the name, methinks."  
  
"Very funny, Alistair. I'm simply **dying** of laughter...!"  
  
"You'll be dying of hypothermia in a minute if we can't get this fire going." The blonde haired warrior stated dryly, a crinkle appearing in his brow as he tried to light sparks on a piece of flint for the upteenth time.

 

It had been hours since the storm seperated him and the young brunette women from the rest of the party. By a sheer stroke of luck, they had managed to find this small, wooded cabin nestled into the side of rock. Taking shelter when the blizzard became unpassable, they both decided it would be best to wait it out, hopeful that the others would soon send out a search party.  
  
In the meantime, both Alistair and the ludicriously-named Bubbles were trapped in this chilly shack for Maker know's how long.  
  
He swallowed back a lump in his throat. _I suppose it could be worse.._ he mused quietly, trying to focus on the task at hand as he struggled to ignite the logs in the fireplace; _I could be stuck with Morrigan bitching about the weather..._  
  
"Need some help?" the young woman offered, seating herself beside him and taking the flint from his shaking hands. He smiled awkardly, a flush of pink colouring his cheeks. Flecks of snow glistened against the velvety black of her closely cropped hair, the melting ice sending cool droplets of water trailing down her face.

 

Biting his lip, Alistair watched as one rolled down her cheek, trailing along her jaw until it trickled down her long, slender neck before pooling gently in the crook of her collorbone.  
  
In the weeks that had past since he'd quite literally run into her on the outskirts of the Brecillian Forest, Alistair was smitten.  
A woman of short stature, she barely reached Alistair's elbow when stood barefoot before him and as he watched her lean down to take a stab at getting a fire going, he was struck with the sudden urge to kiss the top of her head. Before he could stop himself, his lips brushed lightly against the moist black locks, the taste of ice and remnants of pineapple hair salve washing over him.  
  
She glanced up at him in surprise, lips pursed in amusement.  
  
"What was that for?" she said in amusement, arching a dark eyebrow. Alistair made a small choking noise low in his throat, haistily springing to his feet as a hot burning sensation spread like wildfire across his cheeks. He smiled sheepishly, gesticulating wildly towards a small door set in the further most corner of the room.  
  
"Ah-I-I'll just go see if t-there's any food...!" he squeaked, tripping over himself as he scooted away from her.  
  
Bubbles could only roll her eyes, chuckling lightly to herself. "Oh, Alistair! If you wanted to kiss me, all you had to do was ask!"  
  
"Ahh. As much as I'm tempted by that offer, I highly doubt your charming brother would appreciate us making kissy-faces."  
  
"My brother..." she said cooly, her gaze fixed on the crackling sparks that danced between the wood in the hearth; "...Is most likely holed up in some Dwarvian tavern with that beastly Morrigan woman getting his end away so I wouldn't worry too much about sharp, pointy objects aimed for your Adam's Apple any time soon."  
  
"I don't know. I heard twins have a sixth sense about these things..." Alistair called from over his shoulder as he tugged the small wooden door handle.Upon opening it, he found there was a small cubboard set into the wall, housing a number of canned goods, two mugs and a single blanket.  
  
"Oooh, cocoa!" he exclaimed, grabbing a tin from the back of the closet; "Orlesian. Fancy!"  
  
"Nothing like a little hit of sugar to chase away the threat of pneumonia." Bubbles replied with sarcasm, warming her hands against the fire as Alistair pulled out the blanket and spread it across the floor, returning to retrieve the cups and cocoa before settling down beside the young woman in front of the roaring flames.

 

As the heat radiated through the room, the chill of winter was soon chased away and as the tempeture rose, the young warriors felt compelled to pull off their heavy splintmail armour, leaving them both clad in their flannel tunics.  
  
Pouring the thick, gelatinous liquid into a small cauldron he'd liberated from the back of the closet, Alistair set about hanging it on a little hook above the flames, letting it heat throughly before pouring it into the mugs.  
"Now if only we had some marshmellows, that would really make my night complete!"  
  
"You sure do like your candy, Alistair. It's a good thing you get so much excercise killing darkspawn." She giggled, watching as his ears turned slightly pink. He crinkled his nose at her, a playful pout upon his lips.  
  
"Well, if the horde doesn't kill me, I can always count on diabetes!" he grinned, taking a swig from his mug and savoring the smooth, rich taste or Orlais' finest chocolate-flavored beverage warmed him to the pit of his stomach.  
  
"We can but hope!" Bubbles said with a laugh, clinking her mug against his, raising it to her lips to take a greedy gulp. Resting on that thick woolen blanket, she stretched out fully and lay on her back, a contented sigh escaping her.  
  
"Can I ask you something?" Alistair queried, fingers curling lightly around the comforting warmth of his mug; "Why on earth are you called Bubbles?"  
  
The young Cousland woman chuckled and closed her eyes, savoring the heat of the fire as it soothed the ache in her battle-worn muscles.

  
"Ahhh, the 64,000 soverign question."  
  
"I'm just curious. It must've been weird getting addressed at council meetings as Teryna Bubbles Cousland of Highever!"  
  
Rolling onto her stomach, the brunette woman shook her head and playfully swatted his arm, her emerald eyes sparkling in the firelight.  
"You don't **really** think my name is **actually** Bubbles, do you?  
  
Alistair sucked in a breath, momentarily distracted by a smudge of chocolate on her bottom lip. His fingers twitched around his mug, the only thing stopping him from reaching out to take her head in his hands, tilt her jaw upward and lick away that delectable speck of sweetness-  
  
"Alistair? Hell-oo? Earth to Wonder Boy!"  
  
Jumping, Alistair emitted a squeak of alarm. "S-sorry! You were saying?" he simpered, hoping she wouldn't notice his little lapse in attention. She smiled softly at him, scooting a little closer to lightly trace patterns up his arm as he lay back beside her.  
  
"I said it's a family nickname. Are you listening?"  
  
"Y-Yes. Yes, I'm all ears, dear."  
  
"Good." She took another swig from her cocoa mug, this time earning her a sizable chocolate moustashe that she failed to lick away. _Maker help me!_ Alistair thought, unable to keep his lip from quivering. _She_ **has** _to be doing this deliberately...!  
_  
"My father was the one to bestow the name upon me, if you must know. He said that when I was born, I came out of the womb hiccupping rather than screaming down the infirmary. Ever since then, he noted that in times of great stress, rather than cry, scream or stamp my feet, I'd simply hiccup my way through any given situation and so, the nickname kind of stuck."  
  
"Maybe it's all down to your bubbly personality!" Alistair jested, earning a light smack on the shoulder from his companion.  
  
"Oh, shush!"  
  
"Just out of interest, what **is** your real name?"  
  
The young woman groaned and rested her head on his shoulder, looking up at him with a slight grimace.  
"It's stupid... an old fashioned, stuffy name that doesn't suit me.."  
  
"Stupider than 'Bubbles'?"  
  
"Shut up and drink your cocoa!" she sniffed, cheeks puffing with indignity.  
  
Smirking, Alistair dared to wind an arm around her, feeling braver knowing that her brother was not about burst into the room at any given moment and dagger-shank him seven ways from Sunday.  
"Nooo, you're not getting out it that easy, young lady! You've piqued my interest this much so spill!" he slid his hand down to the crock of her elbow, smirk widening as he felt her shiver against his touch.  
  
"N-nooo..." she gasped, the ticklish sensation rocking up her spine as his fingers gently teased her. "...Forget I said anything!"  
  
"Better rethink that statement. I know all your ticklish spots!"  
  
"Oh, do you now? And exactly where and when did you get this info-or-mation-?!" she bit her lip, desperate to stiffle a helpless giggle as his rough fingers brushed the inside of her wrist with agonizingly slow movements.  
  
"I've seen you and Malcom rough house a few times. Wasn't at all that hard to figure out. Ally-oop!"  
  
"EEK!"  
  
With an alarmed shriek, the brunette found herself flat on her back, both pinned by one of the burly not-Templar's hands, his other moving to mercilessly tickle her sides through the thin fabric of her tunic. She gasped, throwing her head back as she convulsed with laughter, barely able to string a sentance together as tears of mirth blurred her vision.  
  
"Al-is-stair---!!" she cried, strugggling to catch her breath amid the hysterics; "M-m-m-my name---! My name is--- is---!"  
  
"That's it! Yield to my epic tickling skills, for I shall show you no mercy! Mwahahaha!"  
  
"It's **Margerine** \--!"  
  
At this, Alistair released her hands swiftly, moving to prop himself up on it as she lay trapped beneath him. his face was a picture, caught between confusion and supressed giggles as he processed this new information. After a brief moment, he finally spoke, voice shaking with barely-supressed mirth.  
  
"Y-you're name is Margerine? Wait, like the butter substitute?!"  
  
"Sh-Shut up! As the older warden in this room, I command you to stop mocking me!"  
  
"Y'know, **Margerine**..." he rolled her name across his tongue, savoring the indignant blush that rose up from her cheeks; "...were it not for that delightful chocolate moustashe you're sporting, you almost sounded threatening-!"  
  
"Ch-chocolate moustashe?" She sat up slightly, her fingers moving to sweep across her lips, feeling the cooling sweetness stick to her skin. Arching an eyebrow, her lips pulled into a devious smile, hands reaching to pull him closer to her.  
  
"Well then..." she breathed huskily; "Prehaps you'd like to like it off?"  
  
  
Never before had Margeline ever seen a man run so fast or so willingly into a blizzard....  
  
  
 **End**  
  
\---------  
 _Silly little blurb is silly. now I want some cocoa. >_>_

 

 


End file.
